


Cry Me a River

by perryvic, Zaganthi (Caffiends)



Series: Desperate Tranquility [6]
Category: Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types, Hannibal Lecter Tetralogy - Thomas Harris, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-31 00:23:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1025131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perryvic/pseuds/perryvic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffiends/pseuds/Zaganthi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He shouldn't do this, but Atlantis was declassifying piece by piece and with it came the fresh remembrances of the godawful job he had done protecting people he cared about. The fact he woke the Wraith, the shooting of Sumner, the deaths of each and every marine because he was suddenly in charge and he wasn't prepared for that. Every hurt, every injury, every thing, just bubbling back to the surface from where he had tried to ignore them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cry Me a River

He'd told John that he was ready whenever he was, in a phone call that implied a lot that shouldn't necessarily be said on a monitored line.

He shouldn't do this but Atlantis was declassifying piece by piece and with it came the fresh remembrances of the godawful job he had done protecting people he cared about. The fact he woke the Wraith, the shooting of Sumner, the deaths of each and every marine because he was suddenly in charge and he wasn't prepared for that. Every hurt, every injury, every thing, just bubbling back to the surface from where he had tried to ignore them. He'd been busy, wrapped up in surviving, in trying to get everyone as far as he could in time and distance to safety. And now it had just slowly stopped, rolled backwards, rolled over him as it was slowly shared with the larger world in bits and pieces that sounded surreal as they were reinterpreted.

His semblance of control and instinctive managing of his needs now that he had a semi sort of relationship with Will going on had been better but this... had spiraled out of control. It was choking him with guilt. He felt like he wasn't able to breathe with it, couldn't look people in the eyes.

And he had to. They were planning missions, really giving the city the exploring it deserved, and he needed to be interactive and able to take the shit that got thrown at him. He'd probably said too much, especially considering Rodney's ability to hack his email, but it had been an incoherent uncharacteristic blurting of emotional turmoil that had, from the very rapid response from Will, alerted him to a serious issue.

It made him feel less... Less awkward about it, that he was teleporting down to California for a long weekend and that Will was waiting.

He was tempted to say, no it was all fine, just an over reaction but he honestly didn't think he could. He knew what happened when he had been cut off from doing this on Atlantis. He did become more… martyr orientated subconsciously.

And no one really needed that. Their missions had been going very well, too, but he didn't need to think about that, about work just then. He just needed to hold still, back pack slung over his shoulder. A flash of light and he was out in a concealed spot, not far from Will's place. He trudged up and the dogs barked happily at him.

Dogs. Will had three now, the young dragged Shepherd, a soft French bull dog something puppy that waddled weirdly, and a skittish looking Weimaraner that had been shot in the hip by some jackass who'd maybe thought it was a coyote. The local vet knew Will had a soft spot for injured dogs, and John found it relaxing, like spending time with a dog whisperer, because they were all well behaved. "Hey, Wally. You barking at company instead of fireflies?"

"Hey," John said raising a hand. He was finding it difficult to organize words, because the choking feeling was there.

"Hey." Will raised his hand in return greeting, and stood up from his chair on the porch. No cigarette smoke, no beer at hand. Just sitting outside contemplating the stars. Waiting for John, maybe. "You want to come in?"

"Yeah." He said pathetically grateful to hear his voice. "It's...really good to see you." It felt longer apart than it had been.

"It's really good to see you, too." He met John halfway down the porch steps, and reached to relieve him of his bag in the same motion he hugged him. "You look like hell."

"Yeah, McKay has been saying the same thing," he said and held on to that hug a little longer than perhaps he should. "I thought I had all this shit under control."

"Not really your burden to try to control," Will said firmly, holding that hug before he started up the couple of stairs. "C'mon. Let's get you settled. When're they taking you home?"

"Monday," he answered. "We have the weekend." Thank god they did. John followed Will - usually he would have been fizzing with anticipation but all he could feel was a hollow sense of despair.

Which felt horrible, sickly and dragging. "Good. Here, sit down. I'll get you a drink and you can introduce yourself to Wally, Mark and Cocoa."

"Hey boys… and or girls," John said as the dogs came in happily to sniff at him, giving little hruffs and whimpering sounds of interest as they did so.

"Cocoa's a girl," Will supplied helpfully from down the hall, as he set John's bag somewhere.

"Hopefully not going to expand your household population by half a dozen or more," John said.

"Yeah, did I tell you that story?" Will was lingering in the kitchen, and John could hear glasses. "She was pregnant until she got shot."

"Man, that sucks," John replied. "What happened?"

"She got free and somebody mistook her for a dangerous animal. I hope. Vet never could find an owner for her, so I have my suspicions." It surprised him a little when Will came back into the living room carrying two frosty glasses of something John hoped was beer.

"Thanks," John accepted the drink gratefully. "Not sure how they could suspect her of being a dangerous animal." He petted her again, relaxing a little in the presence of Will.

"Well, thats the story the vet and I came up with to explain what happened. Not sure if that jives with reality," Will half grimaced as he sat down with John on the sofa, "but yeah, she's a sweetie."

John took a long swig of the cold beer looking down at his hands. "Sorry about the email. Guess I... just had a moment."

"There's nothing to apologize for. You're in a bad headspace right now, and I'm glad you trusted me enough to send it." The edge of his mouth quirked up as he took another sip.

"I do. But McKay sometimes, well, email is a snap for him," he said exhaling. He shrugged a little. "It's not so bad now."

That was stretching a tiny bit of improvement into a complete fabrication. "I think it still is." Will leaned in, comfortable with John. Cocoa seemed happy to have more people of the sofa, too, even as she sprawled on John's lap.

He hesitated for a long moment, drinking his beer. "I shouldn't feel this way."

"Says who?" Will lifted his eyebrows at John.

"Everyone. Me." John didn't know what to do with himself. "I am responsible. I was responsible for all of them."

"And somehow being responsible for it means you shouldn't feel shitty about it? How's that work?"

"I shouldn't let it affect me," he said with a sigh. "I'm the guy...you know. The guy. I'm in charge."

"Bullshit. Anyone who says it doesn't affect them is a damn liar. I feel guilty about murderers I don't catch. Is that normal? Who knows. Who gives a shit if its normal. You're reacting. What matters is if it's a change to you."

"I've reached a point where I can't function," he admitted. "And that's... dangerous. I need something to let the guilt out."

"You need to not be responsible." Will reached over, gently scratched Cocoa's ears.

"I need..." John hesitated wondering how to put it. "That and to... somehow pay for it."

"Oh, I'd already planned on that." He looked up, caught John's gaze and held his eyes. "I've been planning for this."

"Planning?" He looked directly at Will for the first time that evening caught between a massive surge of complete relief at the prospect and anxiety.

"Two months, actually." He kept his eyes on John, but his hand on the dog. "I just wanted you to understand you needed it."

"I shouldn't be surprised." He really shouldn't. Will was a genius, he knew that, but he made it easy for people to underestimate him and even knowing his capabilities, John still thought the masks he used that fooled everyone else could fool Will. It was a defense mechanism, not deliberate but he used it like a shield.

Will, sort of southern, pulled back on himself, laid back Will. Will who bordered on criminal in the way a lot of former agents did, and played himself down with self effacing humor. Will who was watching him steadily. "No, you shouldn't. The only question I have right now is if you want to eat dinner first."

"I..don't have much of an appetite at the moment," John answered and nearly winced as he confessed that. Carson got angry and concerned at him when he was like this; anger he could bear but the concern bit deeply.

Will seemed contemplative, and he unfurled himself from the sofa. "Let me take a blood sugar stick. Unless you're willing to submit to a nice steak first. I don't want you to pass out for the wrong reasons."

"I'll eat something, if you think it will help," John answered. It was easier to agree.

"I'd prefer it if you ate something. At least a little." Will was in motion, leaving him on the sofa. John could see the kitchen easily from that spot.

"Okay.." That implied he had a long session in mind and that was somehow the equivalent of man dying of thirst being offered a long drink of ice cold water.

"How about a sandwich?" He leaned around the door jam, watching John carefully.

"Yeah, thanks that'll be great," he said, a little more focused now relief was in sight.

"Good." Will opened the fridge, and started to bustle, organizing things. "How's everyone else been?"

"Rodney is still courting caffeine overdose, and trying to win a Nobel per day." He smiled a little. "He is about to deluge the scientific world with papers which has him rubbing his hands with glee. Uh, Carson is generally despairing of us all as usual. People are hiding out on Atlantis from the fall out of declassification."

"Smart idea. I'm glad everyone is hanging in there. Gotten anywhere with Rodney?" Huh, And that was Will in a nutshell.

"Rodney is straight. He's with Keller," John answered clenching his hands. 

"He was rather preoccupied with you last time . I think he's less straight than you think," Will shrugged, getting a bread knife out of a drawer. "Tomatoes?"

"Please." John replied. "Nah, they're going to have genius kids. If I was going to shack up with anyone, it would be with you, Will." He tried to keep it light and joking but he wasn't good at that at the moment.

"Well, if you ever get bored of your space city, the place is big enough, and dogs like you." There was a plate on countertop noise.

"I'm bound to do something at some point that gets me discharged," John replied. "The IOA might decide against me if the public turn on us." He knew how it worked.

"I think they'd at least have the sense to give you a quiet retirement." Will slid back out of the kitchen, wielding a sandwich at John.

"Or a more permanent retirement," he said taking the sandwich and starting to eat it. "We've had a couple of weeks without a crisis. That means something life threatening is due."

"Or that's your anxiety starting to talk." Will settled down beside him.

"Possibly. Difficult not to get like this when they are second guessing everything," he said. "Nice sandwich."

"Thanks. It's turkey." He resumed his beer, and Wally was following him now, looking happy for the opportunity for more attention.

"My favorite," John replied with a faint smile. "Should I ask what you've been planning for two months?"

"I've added a bit of furniture." He inclined his head slightly. "A St. Andrew's cross."

John's eyes widened a moment. "Really?" That was interesting and already his body was responding. He ate his sandwich rapidly. "With me in mind?"

"Built it, actually." Will grinned as he finished his beer. "Which was fun."

"A custom job, huh? Now that sounds like it is going to be fun," he replied genuinely pleased. "If you know what I mean. But I don't want it to be about me, I want you to get something out of it.”

But given that Will had built a St. Andrew's Cross for him... Maybe it wasn't a burden. "Oh, I will." He set the plate and his glass aside.

"I am ready when you are," John said putting his plate to one side.

"Mm." Will contemplated him, looking thoughtful. "All wound up and no where to go, huh? Then let's get started."

"What would you like me to do?" he asked letting that weight of responsibility slip from his shoulders.

"Stand up, and let's start with you stripping."

It was a firm order, and Will started to stand up to watch. John smiled a little and deliberately began to get undressed in a provocative fashion. He tried to make it look good for Will, to give him a proper show. Will watched, gestured for him to turn around, but the smirk of enjoyment left him with a warming feeling in his stomach.

He was stripped completely and he turned obediently. "Naked enough?"

"Very nice, John. Very nice. You do need to eat more." It was less warm and I'm going to feed you and more scolding in tone.

"Yes sir," he replied responding to the implicit dressing down. Mind you he couldn't get much more dressed down than naked.

"Good. Come here." Will reached his hands out, and put them on John's shoulders, a weighing look in his eyes.

He looked at him directly and then felt that uncontrollable surge of guilt that had been tying him up in knots and had to look away, fighting an urge to apologize. Will lifted John's chin, surveying him still, holding his eyes. "I'm going to punish you, John."

He swallowed slightly. It was a release to have someone assume responsibility for his punishment. It meant he could finally stop...and that it could come to an end. "Thank you."

The corners of his eyes wrinkled as he nodded, accepting John's thanks. "Come with me."

He followed, naked, knowing that Will would push him. Push him further than even he thought he could go. And that was what he needed..when you tortured yourself you could only go to your limits and not beyond them, by definition.

He found the edges, but Will tended to push far, far past them. In a slow, unyielding way. He pushed John forward, leading him to the side room, where Will had everything laid out in wait -- there was a table covered in toys, floggers and straps carefully laid out. Then there was the St. Andrew's cross in the corner. He made the assumption he was to approach the cross, but he wasn't sure which way around Will would want him. "How do you want me?"

"Stand still for a moment." He turned Will around, to have him look at the cross. "We'll start with a warming up. Please stand against the cross and I'll secure you." He stepped up towards the solid wood of the cross allowing himself to go compliant as Will literally strapped him in.

The edges were padded where his legs pressed up against it, where his wrists were bound above his head. Soft leather, lessening the pressure as Will securely belted John's wrists in place.

Will certainly put a lot of time and effort into the cross; he'd been up against a few in clubs not as well finished as this. He could imagine he was going to get a hell of a whipping and strapping from the instruments out. Will's hands lingered down his arms, stroking his shoulders. "Comfortable?"

"Yeah. Feels good," he said resisting the urge to turn to see him. He felt Will's fingers linger against his skin, pressing at the back of his neck, sliding down to the small of his spine. He felt goosebumps prickle all over his body and he twitched as he flexed his spine in response to the touch.

Just slow touches and silence, as if Will were weighing how best to punish him, given the lay of his muscles and what fat there was on his body. He had lost weight again. It was a bad habit but his appetite was one of the first things to go when he went like this. There had been times on Atlantis when relief wasn't in sight that Carson had accused him of having an eating disorder. It wasn't that, it was just that the pressure drowned out hunger pangs. 

"Let's start with something to heighten the burn." Touch abandoned him, and Will turned, wandering off he guessed.

He really did want to turn around then, see what he was planning. He twisted a little trying to see. "Heighten the burn?"

"Warm your skin up. Bring the blood to the surface." He could see Will lingering over the table, picking up a paddle.

"Nice," John said settled back ready for the first strike. Paddles were good if wielded by an expert. A solid feeling blow with plenty of sting and impact but not slicing the skin.

"I want you to count." There was a tap of the paddle's edge against his skin, goading him to turn around without words, before the first blow hit. It landed hard against his left ass cheek, hard enough to make his thigh shake.

"One.." He had to swallow back the gasp to be able to speak.

A pause, and then another blow against his ass, the other side. Rough and hard, with a snap of *sound* to match.

"...Two..." John felt the urge to grit his teeth and then counted off 'three' and 'four' as the hard thwack set his skin glowing. It made him exhale with a faint keening sound.

It was starting to hurt. It was starting to hurt, just a low throb like a stinging sunburn. "Good. How's it feel?"

He'd learned that Will wanted the truth, enjoyed hearing about the feeling. "Warming up like a bad sunburn," he said catching his breath. He pulled at his wrist restraints

Fingers squeezed the heated skin, and then Will hit him again with the paddle, and again, almost too fast to count. His count became strained, punctuated by grunts, and his attempts to choke back exclamation of pain. Fuck, Will was making his entire body burn.

"Who told you that you get to have any dignity in this, John? Who told you that you *deserve* any?" Will smacked him again, and again, until the count slowly edged to ten and then over.

The way Will was hitting him, ten was a lot of hits to take. He knew then Will was deliberately going to try and push him until a barrier broke down. He couldn't do it, he hadn't found anyone who had reduced him to tears because he couldn't let go in front of them.

Will *made* him let go, and he didn't have any choice but to let to, to let himself feel even as he struggled against his natural instinct to keep it together.

Still, it was cries of pain he let go rather than tears even if he half wanted to. Something in him was just stupidly repressed, willing to see his flesh pounded into bruised welts before he could loosen up. Will was going to satisfy that urge for him, stopping and giving John a breather, a pause to pull himself together. "Let's take it up a notch then."

"Jesus..." John groaned as his skin burned all over with glowing heat and a sharp twist of a tidal wave of endorphins about hit hit his blood stream.

"You should be in pain," Will told him, sorting through the implements on the table. "So let's make this a little humiliating as well."

Humiliation was not something he enjoyed, but that was the point. This was a punishment, a penance for everyone he had failed. This was nothing more than he deserved and he had no choice in the matter. He heard Will pace behind him, the motion quiet on the wooden floor of the room. There was a soft sound of fabric and then it looped over his eyes. "I should tape this, send it out to everyone you've ever interfered with."

That hit a sensitive point. Hit a bad point that actually hurt, because being filmed as a hostage with his life being sucked out of him was something that really hurt. Knowing they had seen, knowing he had broken. He couldn't do that again and he knew he tensed all over at the mere possibility even though he was logically sure Will wouldn't. If he recorded it would be for them. For him.

Fingers lingered down his spine again, pressing firmly against burning, aching skin in a way that made him feel pain and the suggestion that it might eventually become something else.

He could only feel things; that pressure, the tightness of the cuffs, the radiating heat from his skin. He was trying to figure out what he was doing.

Stroking, feeling the edge of the raised welts he'd left on John's ass, and then there was the slick pressure of what felt like a finger against his asshole, pressing into him. A little burn of anticipation and fear. Will might do anything, and often did. Fuck… Damn. He made a sound that was half groan and half question. Will smiled against the back of his neck, and pressed his teeth against John's skin as he started to really work his finger into John. "You're tight."

"Don't do anything without you," he replied wanting to squirm badly. "Fuck."

"Keeping yourself for me? I'm flattered." He slid another finger in slowly, forcing his fingers in in a way that didn't hurt. Per say.

“I… just haven't needed any complications," John replied knowing Will was stretching him for something.

And Will was stretching him with thoughtful care. "Mmm. And this is something you consider a complication?”

"No, other people are complications," he said flexing his ass. "I can't..deal with that and everything going on."

"Clearly you can't deal without people, either." He eased his fingers back, and gave John space and time to consider what he'd said and what was coming next.

"Probably not," he admitted. His back, ass and thighs were glowing with heat.

It had calmed down from a reeling sort of pain to something duller, easier to handle. At least until Will started to manhandle his ass cheeks apart, pressing something thick and slick up into him.

Not his cock from the feel of it, not hot enough. He had to grunt a little to take it in, groan aloud, trying to figure if it was just a plug of some description.

Too deep, but it felt like there was a flare to it. Definitely designed to stay in, and heavy, thick and leaving him feeling stretched wide before the dull low buzz of vibration kicked in. “Perfect."

"Uhnn, that's going to drive me crazy," John said shifting.

"Good." He tapped the end, making it shift in a John. "I want you to count as I strap your ass."

Crap, that was going to jolt the vibrator each time. Strap on his ass, that was going to hurt like hell on tender skin. The first one was like being tazed over the skin. “One... fuck…"

Will made a satisfied noise behind him, and strapped him harder for the next one.

He managed two and three with grunts, but four and five were gasps and barely audible. Jesus fuck, it was like being seared with a branding iron.

A branding iron that was attached to his dick, a mix of pain and the urge to squirm forward against the unyielding cross that held him still.

The vibrator in his ass was driving him crazy at the same time, making a weird alchemy of pleasure and pain that twisted everything from unbearable to wanting more.

"Count!" Will ordered firmly, pausing in his strikes.

He had to struggle to find the words again. He counted, until they were coming our as angry yells almost, then hoarse strained gasps as he became disorientated from the outside world and everything except for that sharp impact and intense pleasure jolt.

It was a fight and he was losing it, barely able to handle the count, to process what the words meant, up in the double digits, twenty four, twenty five, and then the pressure of strap against his skin stopped. He was sweating all over and his legs were shaking, but he was practically floating now, as sure as if he had been shot up with drugs. He was literally hanging against the cross as if that was the only thing supporting him. He could hear Will breathing behind him, reaching down between his spread legs to jiggle the vibrator roughly. "Still with me?"

"Uhnn..." It was inarticulate but all he had. Pain reminded him he was alive, could feel where others could not. His head lolled a little as he tried to bring his awareness into focus.

Fingers touched, pressed against his brutalized backside, a firm pressure meant to make him feel the spark of pain. "Breathe."

He obeyed, slowing his breathing and swallowing. "Fuck...with you..with you."

"Hmn?" Will nuzzled at the back of his neck, and there was pressure, the pressure of Will's whole body against his back as he molded himself up against John.

Oh, that felt good, that felt...great. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to feel that intimate contact. All the more intimate because technically he was vulnerable to Will and whatever he wanted to do. It was pain and pleasure, Will sliding his hands between Will and the cross, to wrap his fingers around Will's dick. The vibrator was still buzzing, but it was a dull note compared to the ache of his back.

He gave a sigh of pleasure at that, and gave a 'mmm' of mellow pleasure, strength returning to his legs and body after the strapping. The sensation of fingers on his cock was amazing.

And so was the sensation of Will pressed up between his sore asscheeks, hard as a rock while a vibrator buzzed away in John's ass. "That's it. Stay with me."

It always gave him a thrill to feel how much this aroused Will. Somehow it became something more, less… selfish when he had that proof. He moved a little, flexing to tease his cock a little

He felt Will rumble pleasure against the back of his head, and he press kisses against his hair. His other hand slid between their bodies, and pulled the vibrator out in a quick motion.

That made him gasp a little. He wondered if that meant Will was actually going to fuck him. Fingers plied at his ass for a moment, and Will made a relaxed humming noise. "Are you ready?"

"For you? Always," John managed. He was stretched, he was pliable from the 'punishment' and he was always ready for anything Will could give him.

He was mostly sure he could take it. Mostly, and Will didn't hesitate as he thrust into John with barely a moment's hesitance.

He made another noise, half of shock and half of satisfaction. It was rough and raw and that suited the mood of this particular encounter. It ensured he knew he was completely vulnerable, and that he had no choice...and that was exactly what he needed.

Hard, fast thrusts into him, Will sliding his hands down to clutch at his hips. The pressure of his thumb against his ass-cheeks was sharp, painful. He liked rough, he could feel everything with the hypersensitivity of his skin. He shuddered, as the pounding continued.

Everything was a shock of pain, a shock of sensation in his mind, as Will played him like a piano, fingers hitting pain over and over, his cock keeping John open.

It was driving him crazy, distracting him enough that he couldn't seem to reach climax and Will seemed to have supernatural levels of stamina in thrusting into him. It seemed to go on forever.

It was endless waves of sensation, pain and pleasure, and Will finally jacking him off again, driving strokes of fingers over his dick, squeezing and stroking him upward.

Eventually when he came it was with a cry that was similar to the noises he had been making during the whipping, and his orgasm was almost ripped from him, taking half his strength with it. It left him sagging against the cross, and Will kept him upright while he reached a hand out to slowly unfasten his wrists. "Good. Good. We'll get you to bed..."

He sagged almost immediately when the tension removed itself and he felt curiously emotional now it was over. It was a symptom of this sort of treatment, but he felt his eyes burn at the merest hint of sympathy and kindness.

"Just lean back against me." Will had a firm arm across his chest, and shifted back slowly to reach down and unfasten Will's ankles. "There we go..."

His legs were just failing to support him properly and he had little choice but to do as Will said, collapsing into him. He felt curiously light and boneless, as if he had been scoured clean and hollow.

It was easy to be goaded, mostly carried and dragged into the bedroom across the hall. The room was dimly lit. The sheets looked silken, smooth and smelled like fresh laundry.

This wasn't how things happened. He didn't get treated in this way, not after a punishment. Usually he was left or kicked out by the places he'd been in the past. In Pegasus, it had been literal punishments on missions. They happened often enough that he could use them, break the cycle. 

"Stretch out on your stomach." It was still a firm order, but Will was guiding him through the motion, half laying him down on the bed.

His back and legs were on fire again, some of the endorphins ebbing back and he shifted up so he was securely on the bed. "Don't want to mess up your clean sheets.." he murmured.

Will sighed, and rested a firm hand on the back of his legs. "My bought them on sale from target sheets. Yeah, god knows I have no access to fresh water or detergent." He leaned in, not quite touching John, but close enough to feel his breath against his ear. The dim room made it hard to see details. "You're going to shut up and let me take care of you.”

He might as well have been talking another language for all the sense that made to him. "Take care of me?" He couldn't help the incredulity in his voice. Yes, when it had been more about sex, then they did that, but this had been something else.

"Mmm." The bed creaked a little, and Will leaned, pulling something out of a cooler from beside the bed. John tracked the motion idly, saw the faint pale blue before it was laid on his back, and then another one, and another, pressing cool weight against his skin.

He inhaled sharply and it was ridiculous, he couldn't manage to break and cry when he has having the shit beaten out of him but a little consideration and he was fucking well welling up.

Will's fingers lingered down to brush his hair off of where it was stuck to his forehead. Then he placed a cooling pack there, as if he were overheating. "So, how do you manage to convince them this is regulation?"

"Rank has it's privileges," he mumbled, trying to avoid looking at him. "Fuck.." He needed to get a grip on himself.

Will seemed intent, though, and slid his hand back, fingers soft against the edge of Will's jaw. "I'm going to get you a glass of orange juice, okay? And then we'll bandage you up."

He nodded a little, swallowing convulsively. "Thanks." He listened as Will went out the room and it was like that brief moment of solitude was what his body had been waiting for. He could feel his eyes overflow and it was completely out of his control and that was somehow more terrifying, more a dizzying vulnerability to him than any of the extreme scenes he had participated in. And he couldn't get it to fucking well stop.

It was intensely humiliating to be in this position but he couldn't stop, couldn't fend Will off. All he could do was bury his face in his arm and pillow, to attempt to conceal it in some way until it had run its course. It was a release, a letting go of some of the grief he had been choking on for a long, long time. All of the people they had lost, the deaths he had been responsible for. He had feared letting go because he knew if he did he would be out of control until it was spent.

He wasn't allowed to conceal, though, not with Will pulling him into his lap, shifting in to replace the pillow.

“Don’t, don't look…" he mumbled. “Fuck… sorry." He tried to move, twist away.

And Will didn't let him pull away, holding him tight. "I want to look. I enjoy seeing all of you."

Somehow that was worse, but also better. Will still wanted to see him, even like this. Even at his lowest ebb. He let him move him into position, and eventually allowed himself to override the instinctive response that if his eyes were shut, he could not be seen and looked at him.

"There we go." He wiped at John's eyes with his thumb. "Just let the poison out."

It was easier to think of it like that somehow. At least he wasn't in the grip of wracking sobs. In a surreal way it did feel like something inside of him had overflowed and was trickling its way out of him. He could imagine it as something else, something dark and oily and that made it more of a unpleasant medical thing.

Will ran his fingers through John's hair, petting and stroking him until he felt calmer, until he pressed the glass against his lips. "Drink."

It wasn't until the orange juice touched his lips that he realized how thirsty he was and the act of drinking loosened the tightness in his throat so he could breathe easier and relax a little. "Sorry about that Will… That’s never happened before."

"Nothing to apologize for. That's why you come here." For that, he supposed. For the sense of relief.

It wasn't just about that, because Will was more than just a therapy tool to him. "That and seeing you obviously," he corrected him. "I am very grateful Will."

"I enjoy taking care of you, when you let me." He was smiling, still stroking John's hair."And I think you've been punished enough for a while."

"I think it might be a while before my ass can take that level again," John said. He glanced up at him. "Mmm, you were trying to get me to break on the cross?"

"Clearly it was the wrong tactic, but I was." He curled fingers against the curve of John's shoulder.

"I don't know why I can't then.." John exhaled feeling a depth of relaxation settle on him that he couldn't remember experiencing for a very long time. "It reminded me of a previous experience.”

“What did it remind you of?" Will asked, tone relaxed as he sat there and kept stroking John's hair.

"I was held hostage and tortured on camera as leverage," John answered. "It was...bad. I couldn't break in case they gave in. When you mentioned that thing about filming it just…well.."

And when had he ever talked about that willingly? Never. Only the bare bones touched on in the obligatory therapy, and he'd played on the fact Todd had erased the physical issues.

It was done and easy and gone, no harm no foul, right? Except just maybe, there had been some harm. "Ah. No, I'd never. I'm pretty greedy about the time I get with you, and I wouldn't share that."

"I know, I realized that. There was just a moment," John answered. He looked up at him faintly hopeful. "You're greedy about our time together?"

"Oh yeah." Will's mouth quirked a little, still watching John. "I wasn't joking when I mentioned that if you needed a place to stay..."

"I.." John hesitated. Why the hell not? Why shouldn't he have a bit of something for himself? "I might just do that."

"No pressure, just consider it an open door if you need some place to hang your hat." His fingers lingered down to the nape of John's neck. "Also, I live on the beach and you've never tried to surf out here. That's a damn shame."

"That's true." He smiled a little, and reached to touch his hand. "Thank you Will. I'm glad you can read me well enough to give me have I need. I owe you."

"No, you don't. You're a friend. You might think you owe me, but you really don't." Will shifted a little, slouching and still holding John against his lap. "I might take a doze, though. My shoulders got a workout on your back."

"You know how I feel about friends," he murmured. "I think it's going to be painful tomorrow.”

And he didn't care - he had Will here, he felt somehow lighter and freer than before.

"Yeah, but we can still scare up a couple of surfboards and eye them until they was themselves," Will encouraged.

“Does that mean you're going to surf as well?" John asked smiling. " That sounds like a plan..."

"Badly, yeah." And for the moment, they could lay there and wallow in sensation, resting and just breathing. And to do that without the weight of guilt crushing him was more than a little like flying.


End file.
